


Oikawa Tooru: Shoujo Heroine Extraordinaire

by afuzzyowl



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Parody, Rating May Change, Slice of Life, bit of angst maybe, bit of pining too, but serious romance, iwa-chan love me, makki and mattsun are the bffs, silly writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:10:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afuzzyowl/pseuds/afuzzyowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa just wants to live out a perfect shoujo romance with his beloved Iwa-chan.</p><p>a parody of shoujo and BL manga tropes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oikawa Tooru: Shoujo Heroine Extraordinaire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cuz this pairing could use some more HUMOUR, MAAN  
> also cuz i have a love-hate relationship with manga tropes. enjoy <3

It was a warm, cloudless morning as a boy with the largest, most glittery eyes in shoujo manga history dashed into the kitchen of his family home, tie neatly done and hair perfect despite his rush. “I’m late! I’m so, so late!” he cried, flowers and sparkles aflutter as he floundered for the front door. “Bye, Ma! Bye, Pa!”

“Wait, but what about your breakfast!”

“It’s okay, I brought bread with me!” he called back, and with buttered toast clinched between shiny pearly-whites, he burst out into the spring air.

Hello, everyone. This was Oikawa Tooru at your service, sixteen years old, first-year high school student. Hobbies: volleyball and (reluctantly) babysitting his kid cousin. Hair colour: light brown. Eye colour: light brown. Occupation: shoujo manga protagonist.

It was his second day of school, technically the first since the day before had just been the welcome ceremony, and he was vibrating out of his skin in excitement for his brand new life as a high-schooler. Indeed, April was a month of fresh starts, a month of cherry blossoms, crisp uniforms, and sweet-smelling breezes that served no purpose other than to caress Oikawa’s natural curls into perfection. He was the epitome of the ideal protagonist: devastatingly pretty with fabulous hair, twenty-twenty vision, and clear skin. After all, who’d want to buy a manga with a nerdy, coke-bottle-glasses-wearing slob as the main character, ain't that righ—no, but wait.

Oikawa screeched to a stop behind a telephone pole, toast still hanging from his mouth, and rested his forehead against some poster of a lost dog. Actually, that was one of the clichés, wasn’t it? The hottest, smartest, richest, most popular boy of the school falling in love with the plain protag? Oh, then again, that was just a plot device used to make the protag more relatable. Oikawa nodded to himself. Yeah, he didn’t have to worry about that, because he was smexy as all hell and deserved a lovey-dovey high school life just as much as those pathetic damsels-in-distress who couldn’t even figure out their own feelin, like, what in the actual worl—

“Oh, for the love of baby Cupid,” a voice moaned, making Oikawa jump, “dude, are you _done_ yet? You've had, like, six whole paragraphs.”

"Yeah," another voice griped. "When's it our turn to introduce ourselves?"

Oikawa slowly turned around. “H-How mong haf you guyf been’ere?”

“Since the beginning,” they drawled together. “When you ran outta your house and past us, sparkles flying behind you.”

Hastily shoving the toast into his mouth, Oikawa chewed aggressively, settling for gesturing in the meantime because chewing with his mouth open was much too barbaric. He was met with blank stares.

“You...had trouble on the toilet this morning...?”

“...From...eating moldy milk bread you found in the trash...?”

They graciously waited another minute before Oikawa finally swallowed, coughing and hacking as he smacked at his chest.

“ _NO_ ,” he snapped, “I _said_ , you can't just interrupt the first intro monologue of the protagonist! I have to give our readers some setting, you know! It was super poetic and everything! And what makes you guys think you get a self-introduction in the first place?"

“...Wow. I'm. I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now."

"Me too, Makki. What say you we go on ahead first, since we're clearly not needed here?”

“My, what a brilliant idea, Mattsun. Let's.”

“No!” Oikawa jumped into their path, flailing at the identical expressions of je-ne-care-pas on his best friends’ faces. “You can't just wreck the flow of my perfectly planned out scene! True love is at stake her—”

“Yeah, true love,” Matsukawa snickered. "That's why you're hiding behind a telephone pole, following some poor guy around, right?"

Oikawa bristled. “I’m not _following_ him, okay? I just happened to leave my house at the same time that he passed by!”

“Yeah,” Hanamaki sneered. “’Cause you saw him from your bedroom window. Where you were waiting.”

Oikawa’s mouth dropped open, and Hanamaki put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, Oikawa," he said, patting him the way Oikawa’s mother used to when he told her aliens were hiding in his closet (in case you were wondering, they were). “As your only friends—”

“HEY!”

“—we fully support that you wanna live out your high school debut or whatever, but don’cha think stalking some guy to school is kinda too creepy for a shoujo protagonist? We can't let you do that to yourself.”

“Yeah, and all while muttering a narration of your life, too,” Matsukawa added. “To be a true heroine, you’re supposed to, like, meet the guy and hate his guts at first, and then unsuspectingly fall for him or something. Not follow him around like a pervert.”

Oikawa spluttered. “I-It’s not like I have suspicious motives or anything! Love is uncontrollable, Mattsun! Meeting him was fate!”

“By the way, guys, this is a little off-topic, but I’ve been wondering ever since seeing the title of this manga, and I thought shoujo was between a girl and a guy,” Hanamaki said, scratching his head. Matsukawa’s eyes widened.

“You’re right. What is this then, BL?”

“Hmm.”

They crossed their arms, lips pursed in thought.

Oikawa quivered in rage. “I’m cute enough to be the heroine of a shoujo manga!”

Matsukawa clicked his tongue. “Naw, man.”

“Even if you were, that would suck ‘cause you wouldn't get a makeover segment.” Hanamaki sighed. “How are you supposed to show...uh. What was his name, Mattsun?”

“Iwa-chan.”

“I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN CALL HIM IWA-CHAN!”

“Right, how’re you supposed to give Iwa-chan the doki-dokis if there’s no contrast between at-school you and super-kawaii-just-for-this-date you, since you’re already too cute for a makeover?”

Oikawa froze. They had a point. He looked down at his model-length legs, at the soft skin of his hands, at his—he flashed his pocket mirror real quick—long eyelashes and perky nose. And then he took a look around himself, pink-white petals swirling in the air, branches rustling and birds chirping their morning tunes. Cue: [shoujo background music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5Gz9rmP4SI).

They were right. Everything was too perfect. Eyes watery, Oikawa grabbed Hanamaki by the shoulders. “Makki, what do I do if I can’t even get a makeover for Iwa-chan? What do I do if he hates me?”

“Don’t worry,” Hanamaki said, pointing at Oikawa directly between the eyes (which made him self-conscious because he sometimes secretly plucked the hair there in fear of growing a unibrow). “For the sake of your future happiness, Oikawa, Mattsun and I will make you—”

“—ugly,” Matsukawa finished, clapping Oikawa on the back. “Leave it to us.”

Oikawa’s lips trembled. “B-But how am I supposed to seduce Iwa-chan if I’m ugly?!” he wailed.

“It’s okay, I’m sure he’ll be charmed by your big heart or your emotional strength or how good you are with kids or how you always need rescuing or how you never, ever, _ever_ give up no matter what.”

* * *

See, the thing was, ever since Oikawa had discovered the existence of romance manga back in elementary school, he’d been an avid fan. Even throughout his days at Kitagawa Daiichi, when his life had consisted solely of volleyball, schoolwork, then more volleyball, he’d never been able to give up his late-night indulgences of tomato-faced teens and florid backgrounds.

Manga gave him hope. No matter how hard practice was, how much he hated Tobio-chan or Ushiwaka-chan, the possibility that someday his very own Kazehaya or Takishima or Otani could be walking home with him and taking him on romantic dates, gave him renewed inspiration.

He wanted to love and be loved. He wanted to be someone’s absolute number one. He wanted butterflies and fireworks, the real deal.

He had expectations, dammit. And only one man could fulfill them.

 

 

The first time he saw Iwaizumi, sweat didn't gather on his palms, his pulse didn't jackhammer, and fireworks didn't explode in his heart. He didn’t gasp or trip or crash into anything, and he wasn’t blinded by an abnormal amount of sparkles emanating from the guy, because honestly, Mr. Spiky-Head wasn’t that sparkly to begin with.

But no matter how hard Oikawa tried, he just couldn’t look away.

“Oikawa?” Hanamaki poked him. “What are you staring at?” Matsukawa looked up from the comic section of his newspaper curiously. Oikawa ignored them and stood. “Yo, you’re gonna lose your seat!” Hanamaki whispered.

“It’s fine,” Oikawa said faintly. “I’ll be back.”

He shouldered his way past suits and sweatshirts, absently muttering apologies, not even bothering to flash his business smile. He didn’t know how many feet he’d stepped on before finally reaching the very back of the bus, eyes trained on those sharp features, one seat from the left corner. The guy finally looked up from his phone after Oikawa had been staring for a good five seconds, and then he was met with the sight of very average brown eyes, steady under the quirk of a thin eyebrow.

Oikawa panicked.

“Y-YOU HAVE THE TYPE OF FACE THAT COULD HANDLE A HALF-PAGE CLOSE-UP FOR WHEN THE MANGAKA IS TOO LAZY TO DRAW MORE PANELS,” he shouted.

The bus fell into silence. He could feel all the pairs of eyes on his back, but he only cared about the brown ones that were currently boring right into him, round in shock. Immediately, a purple vein bulged on the guy’s forehead (definitely not healthy, yet oddly charming, inner Tooru gushed), wrinkles creasing between his brows like they belonged there.

“’The hell d’you just say to me, bastard,” he growled, voice low and animalistic.

And Oikawa fell head over heels.

* * *

“So why were you following him around anyway?” Matsukawa asked as they passed the school gates. “Other than, you know. Because you wanted to stare at his ass.”

“Ha, nice one,” Hanamaki said, and they high-fived.

Oikawa strode on haughtily, determined not to let their teasing get to him. “Shut up! It’s your guys’ fault that I lost sight of him. I was two seconds away from approaching hi—oh my god it’s Iwa-chan!” he gasp-shrieked, ducking behind a pillar.

“Ew, I didn’t know Oikawa was like this.”

“It’s because he’s a maiden in love.”

“Yeah, well, it’s getting on my nerves.” Hanamaki grabbed Oikawa by the back of his collar. “Just. Go. Say. Hi,” he hissed, and promptly booted Oikawa right into Iwaizumi’s back.

“OOF!” Oikawa’s nose bumped into Iwaizumi’s hair and oh lord, it smelled so nice, he must’ve taken a shower before school, and why was his school-issued sweater so soft when Oikawa’s felt like needles? “MAKKI WHAT ARE YOU oh god Iwa-chan I’m so sorry um.” Oikawa shot back a few feet, and before he could lose his nerve, pulled a letter out of nowhere and thrust it with both hands at Iwaizumi’s bemused face. “Please take this,” he said meekly, bowing slightly at the waist, partly out of politeness but mostly to keep himself from outright staring. Okay, so he was kind of sensitive about being called a creepy pervert by his friends. Whatever.

“You’re the guy from the bus,” said Iwaizumi. His voice was just as delicious as Oikawa had remembered.

“Yeah,” he said, not looking up, and waved the letter a little.

“What is it?” Iwaizumi asked warily, slowly reaching for it.

“Oikawa, you’re doing it wrong,” Matsukawa mock-whispered, head peeking out from behind a row of shoe lockers.

“You’re supposed to sneak it on top of his indoor shoes, his indoor shoes,” Hanamaki leered, poking out under Matsukawa.

“Crap!” Oikawa jerked back, clutching the letter to his chest. In his panic, he’d made a fatal mistake: the letter was supposed to go in Iwaizumi’s shoe locker, sender unknown so that as he waited under a blooming cherry blossom tree for the fateful confessor, he’d think long and hard about who it was he really wanted to see. And then Oikawa would waltz into the scene and Iwaizumi’s heart would swell with relief and love, and, and—dammit, Oikawa had studied shoujo methods for much too long to commit such a basic screw-up!

His eyes darted to Iwaizumi’s outstretched hand and mouth that was open in what would probably either be a question or an insult. Or a mixture of both. He took a quick scan of the lockers but didn’t see Iwaizumi’s name. “Uh. This was, um. Supposed to go in your locker!”

Iwaizumi scowled, hand falling to his side. “Or you could just give it to me. Even better, you could tell me what it is.”

Oikawa recoiled in horror. “I-I can’t just _tell_ you what’s written here! We’re in public!”

Iwaizumi twitched. “Don’t tell me...that’s a...love letter...”

“Oh, Iwa-chan, don’t be daft.” Oikawa fanned himself. “What else could it be?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and turned away, opening up the locker that was directly in front of him. Wow, how did Oikawa miss that? Maybe he didn’t have twenty-twenty vision after all. What were the chances that Iwa-chan would have a megane kink, he mused.

“Look,” Iwaizumi said, toeing off his shoes. “I don’t know if you’re just messing with me or whatever, but there’s no way I’m going out with you, got it?”

Oikawa’s hopes and dreams crumbled before his eyes in a series of flashbacks, mostly of Iwaizumi’s pissed-off face and retreating back. “Why not?” he whined. “I _love_ you, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi fixed him with a flat look. “We literally met yesterday. For, like, two seconds.”

“I wanted to chat some more, but you got off the bus so quickly!”

“It was my stop.”

“But it was love at first sight! Which I’m sure I confessed loud and clear yesterday! Also, you were the first person other than Makki and Mattsun to appear in this plot, so according to shoujo standards, it has to be you.”

Iwaizumi stared. “What.”

“Wait, why aren’t we good enough to be the hero of the manga?!” Hanamaki seethed.

Oikawa whirled around, stabbing a finger at him. “That’s 'cause you guys are just the ‘helpful friend’ characters, Makki, duh! You only exist for comic relief, and you two are probably gonna end up together anyway.”

“WAIT, WHAT!” Hanamaki and Matsukawa squawked.

Oikawa ignored them, stuffed the letter in his back pocket because it clearly wasn’t going to be helping his case, and clasped his hands together in a plea. Puppy-dog eyes: engage 100% max power. “I’m serious, though, Iwa-chan. Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

Iwaizumi closed his locker and faced Oikawa, crossing his arms. He didn’t so much as flinch at Oikawa’s pitiful expression. “No.”

Oikawa pouted. “B-But—”

“First of all, I told you not to call me Iwa-chan. Second, you’re not exactly my type. Third, I don’t know anything about you. Why the hell would I go out with some stranger?"

“Wait, what, so the part where he’s a guy is okay?” Matsukawa wondered. His ~~wif~~ partner gasped.

“Questioning realism in a manga? How daring of you, Mattsun!”

“I’m gay,” Iwaizumi deadpanned.

Hanamaki clutched at his neck. “Gay? As in, not bi-curious? Or not I’m-straight-but-gay-only-for-you-‘cause-you’re-just-that-cute?”

“Ah, typical BL manga plotline.” Matsukawa nodded sagely.

“What the fuck’s BL?” Iwaizumi scowled. “And yeah, I’m gay. You got a problem?”

“No way.” Hanamaki flapped a hand. “All three of us here are gay. Actually, to be more accurate, Mattsun is bi, I’m pan, and Oikawa is the hopeless homo.”

“He only likes dick,” Matsukawa helpfully elaborated.

“Wow, I bet statisticians really hate you guys.”

“It’s all for the sake of the plot.”

“Stop ignoring the main character!” Oikawa cried. Just then, the bell rang, and Iwaizumi stiffened.

“Shit, I’ve got phys ed. Bye.”

“Wait!” Oikawa moved to grab his arm, but Iwaizumi was already a pace ahead, out of reach. He glanced at Oikawa’s hand from over his shoulder before his gaze shot up to the other boy’s face, narrowing.

“You, stop following me around. It’s creepy.” And then he ran off.

Oikawa’s chin wobbled. He was not _creepy_ , dammit.

*

“Oikawa Tooru. Sixteen years old, height: one-seventy-eight centimeters, weight: sixty-five kilograms, birthday is July 20th, star sign is Cancer, my hobby is volleyball, I played setter in middle school, my best friends are Makki and Mattsun, we’ve been together since we were toddlers, in my free time I coach little kids at the Lil Tykes Volleyball Classroom, I’m in love with the most wonderful person in the world and his name is Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi groaned, shifting so one eye peeked up at Oikawa from his arm pillow. “What are you doing.”

Oikawa beamed, legs swinging from where he was sat backwards in the seat in front of Iwaizumi’s, cheek resting in his palm. “You said you wouldn’t go out with a stranger, so I thought, why not just not be strangers!”

“...So you stalked me to my class.”

“I didn’t stalk you! A faceless side character told me!”

Iwaizumi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re real stubborn, aren’t you?”

Oikawa wiggled his eyebrows in a way he knew came off as way too seductive, which was exactly what he needed for a textbook tsundere like Iwaizumi. “Well, that’s how all the shoujo protags win over their men, right?”

“I have no idea what all this shoujo and BL stuff you’ve been blabbering about is.”

“It’s manga, of course! You don’t read any? Manga was what kept me going in middle school, you know. I got so obsessed that even Makki and Mattsun got dragged into it with me.”

Iwaizumi hummed. “Well, I read some action sometimes, I guess...”

“Wow, Iwa-chan’s such a macho manly man.” Oikawa fluttered his lashes. “Did you play football in middle school, too?”

“...Tennis.”

“Oh my god, that’s, like, the second manliest sport!” he crowed, slapping his thigh.

“I swear I’m gonna kick you out if you don’t shut your trap right this instant.” Oikawa’s mouth immediately snapped closed with a click, and Iwaizumi raised his head, squinting at him in challenge. Oikawa lasted two and a half seconds.

“...Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi slumped back into the cushion of his arms. “Unfgh.”

“Won’t you eat lunch with me?” Oikawa asked, staring down at his hands, pressing the tips of his thumbs together. “I, um, brought extra milk bread, if you’d like some.”

“What,” Iwaizumi huffed, “now you’re being all shy?”

“I mean, I really, really, really, really, _really_ wanna eat lunch with you, if that would be acceptable for you, oh great Iwa-sama.”

Iwaizumi grunted and whacked his forehead against his desk. “...You wouldn’t leave me alone even if I told you to, would you?”

Oikawa brightened, sensing an opening. “Nope!” he lied cheerfully.

The other boy groaned, long and drawn-out as he curled his fingers into his hair, tugging. “Fine,” he finally conceded, and unfurled in a stretch, shirt tightening over his biceps and chest. Oikawa drooled a little. “I was gonna take a nap but you just had to come and be loud as shit.”

“You mean shower you with love!”

Iwaizumi ignored him and began digging in his bag for his lunch. “Where are we going, then?”

“The rooftop, duh,” Oikawa said, hopping to his feet, and grabbed the bag of bread he'd dropped on the floor earlier.

“Huh? You know that place is off-limits to students, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m sure there’s some way we can get in! That’s how it always is in shoujo manga!”

“...How are you even alive without any brain cells.”

*

Much to Oikawa’s loud dismay, the door to the roof was locked and would not budge no matter how desperately he jostled the knob. Defeated, he retreated to the courtyard, Iwaizumi lagging behind him with a smug smirk, and they settled down in the grass. Oikawa went to open up his lunch, but Iwaizumi’s saran-wrapped bread caught his eye and he gasped.

“Iwa-chan! Don’t you know that only eating bread isn’t good for your health! How are you supposed to grow up tall and strong if you don’t get your meats and veggies and calcium?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just concerned about your health! Does your mom not make you a ben...to...” Oikawa suddenly slapped a hand to his mouth, eyes widening until they looked about two millimeters from popping out of his head. “Oh, no. I’m being insensitive, aren’t I? I’m so sorry, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi eyed him in mild annoyance as he chewed evenly. “Huh?”

Oikawa wiped at his eyes, but they were dry despite the very real empathy welling up in his heart right then. Why oh why were shoujo tears failing him now? “There must be some tragic reason why you don’t have a bento, isn’t there? Are...are your parents rarely home because they’re always away on business, leaving you all alone in your big empty house? Or did they flee from loan sharks, saddling you with the debt—OH MY GOD, THAT’S WHY YOU WORK PART-TIME, ISN’T IT—”

“Wait, how did you know about my part-ti—”

“—OR MAYBE.” Oikawa bounced to his knees, slapping his palms to the ground in front of Iwaizumi’s crossed legs, “Do you...have parents, Iwa-chan? Are they not with you anymore? Are you an orphan? Are your foster parents evil? Are they never home either? Did _they_ saddle you with deb—” Iwaizumi thrust his wrapper point-blank into Oikawa’s face, who yelped and flinched back.

“Does your useless pie hole ever stop yammering?!” Iwaizumi barked, shoving at Oikawa’s shoulder. “And stop getting all up in my face, what the hell!”

“But I’m just worried about you!” Oikawa protested, crumpling up the wrapper and flinging it over his shoulder. He inched even closer, his face the living caricature of earnestness. A violent sigh hissed out from between Iwaizumi’s teeth. Oikawa admired the familiar vein pulsing in his forehead.

“My parents are fine, thank you very much. My mom gets home late so I don’t want her to have to wake up early to make me food. That’s it, okay?”

“Really? Really, truly?” Oikawa grasped Iwaizumi’s shoulders, which were nice and firm. Tennis shoulders banzai. “Because you know, if you’re ever troubled about anything, I’ll always be here for yo—”

“You’re my biggest trouble right now.”

“—so don’t ever hesitate to call me in the middle of the night or anything, okay! Though I am a grumpy waker! But if it’s for Iwa-chan, then I don’t mind! Because I love you!”

Iwaizumi’s eyes rolled all the way back into his head. “If I say ‘fine,’ will you leave me alone?”

Oikawa thought about it. “Yeah!”

“Fine. Now go eat your own lunch. At a normal distance away from me.”

“Iwa-chan’s so cruel,” Oikawa pouted. He shuffled back a bit and began picking at his milk bread, wondering if there’d ever come a time when Iwaizumi might be a little nicer to him. Not to say that mean Iwa-chan wasn’t adorable too (Father had taught them to marry someone who looked hot while they were pissed off), but still, a little tenderness never hurt anyone. He stuck his lip out even further when he felt Iwaizumi’s heavy gaze on him, and mumbled a short, “what,” radiating sulkiness out of every pore of his being.

Iwaizumi averted his eyes and took a huge bite of his yakisoba bread. “Are _your_ parentsh alwayf away from home?” he asked, fingers drumming on his thigh. Oikawa looked up with round eyes.

“What? No? Why, are you worried about me, Iwa-chan?” The sulkiness immediately shooped back in through his pores, his frown beginning to curve upwards.

Iwaizumi snorted. “Yeah, right. I just didn’t get how you were coming up with those stupid ideas of yours. You’re not exactly eating a homemade lunch either.”

“Oh, this!” Oikawa beamed. “Nah, this is just because I’m a picky eater, and my mom got tired of putting up with it, haha! Besides, milk bread is my favorite food, so it’s not like I’m complaining.”

Iwaizumi’s expression twisted into a cross between incredulity and wariness, brows scrunched together. “Are you serious? How are you so bad that even your mom’s gotten fed up?”

Oikawa rubbed a thumb in circles on his chin. “Weelll, I don’t like celery, carrots, spinach, radish, squash, beans, asparagus, cauliflower, kale, mushrooms—”

“That’s literally every vegetable,” Iwaizumi deadpanned.

“Not true! I like corn! And potatoes! And...” Oikawa cringed a little, “broccoli is okay sometimes, I guess...if it’s not too soft but not too hard...and I drown it in some kinda sauce...Ah! I like most types of meat though! Except for lamb, yuck, I don’t understand how people can eat that stuff. Oh, and fried fish. Fried fish is too oily and has this really...fishy taste.”

“What did your mom ever do to deserve this,” Iwaizumi muttered.

“That’s not fair!” Oikawa cried, brandishing his bread at the other boy. “I’ve sure there are things that you don’t like to eat either, Iwa-chan! Go on, spit it out!”

“Tamagoyaki,” Iwaizumi said. And stopped. Oikawa waited. Iwaizumi blinked once.

“Wait, what?” Oikawa screeched. “That’s it? Impossible! You must be an alien, Iwa-chan, or you were abducted by aliens when you were younger, and they force-fed you so many vegetables that you came to love them, sorta like Stockholm Syndrome! Wow, that would actually explain so many things.”

Iwaizumi sighed. “You’re just abnormal, Trashykawa.”

Oikawa pressed his lips together. He was about to inform Iwaizumi that “actually, Iwa-chan, I do eat my vegetables, I just don’t like eating them, so please stop sounding like my mom,” but the words died in his throat when what Iwaizumi had said finally registered.

He’d said that he didn’t like tamagoyaki.

As in, egg rolls.

As in, the number one popular food depicted in shoujo manga to be easy enough to cook that even protagonists who habitually blew up their kitchens could make, and which were quite delicious, to boot.

“HOLD YOUR HORSES!” Oikawa bellowed, shooting forward until he could count the freckles on Iwaizumi’s nose bridge (aw, how cute). Iwaizumi looked slightly disgruntled but didn’t move back. “You said that you didn’t like tamagoyaki just now, didn’t you? As in, those egg rolls that loving girlfriends always put in their boyfriends’ bento?”

“I guess...?”

Oikawa gasped so hard he was worried for a second that his asthma would act up, even though he didn’t have asthma. “Ohmigod you’re such a cliché shoujo hero, Iwa-chan!” he squealed. “This is a hint for me to make you delicious egg rolls, isn’t it? I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU LOVED ME, IWA-CHAN! You’re just a high-level tsundere character, but now that I’ve unlocked you, we’re gonna live happily ever after~”

Iwaizumi looked like he’d just lost a few years of his lifespan. “What. No. Shittyka—”

“DON’T WORRY, IWA-CHAN! Do you prefer them sweet or savoury? I’ll do my best to make them! Although I’ve never cooked before, and I’ll probably end up blowing up the kitchen because that’s a prescribed event in shoujo manga, and they’ll end up looking like black censored turd, but you’ll eat it all anyway because you’re just kind like that, Iwa-chan, I know it!”

By this point, Iwaizumi had given up trying to argue and was just glaring up at the sky, the last of his yakisoba bun dangling from his mouth, fists clenched at his sides.

“Iwa-chan? Hey, Iwa-chan? Are you okay?” Oikawa gnawed on his bottom lip, scooting even closer and poking Iwaizumi in the stomach. “You’ll eat my egg rolls, won’t you? Won’t you? Heeey~”

Iwaizumi’s face went an alarming red, and then he slammed a fist on top of Oikawa’s head. Oikawa yelped, clutching the spot. “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Iwaizumi shouted. “I’M NOT EATING THEM IF THEY LOOK LIKE SHIT, GOT IT?!”

Oikawa’s head whipped up, his eyes glowing. “But you’ll eat them?! Iwa-chaaaaaaannn!” And he threw his arms around Iwaizumi’s neck.

* * *

That evening as Oikawa lay in bed, he couldn’t help sighing dreamily as he pressed his pillow to his face, shoujo flowers blooming all over the room. He grabbed his phone and tapped on Facebook Messenger.

_Conversation: Oikawa-san + friend characters_

Oikawa Tooru: i love him sooooooooooooooooooo muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch ♥♥♥♥♥♥

Matsukawa Issei: ghey

Hanamaki Takahiro: mattsun and I insist on being ur double best men for the wedding

Oikawa Tooru: we had a lovey dovey lunch date today

Matsukawa Issei: so thats where u disappeared to. did u bribe him

Hanamaki Takahiro: or did u blackmail him

Oikawa Tooru: NO i just asked and he said yes

Hanamaki Takahiro: u asked like a normal person????????

Matsukawa Issei: ring ring hello is this satan? yes hi this is mattsun i was just wondering if hell has frozen over

Hanamaki Takahiro: hey mattsun this is satan, current temperatures in hell are at a record-breaking minus fifty degrees celsius, pigs are flying and errything

Matsukawa Issei: i knew it

Oikawa Tooru: we talked for the whooooole hour (●♡∀♡) he likes agedashi tofu!!! and hates tamagoyaki!!!!

Hanamaki Takahiro: what, r u gonna make them for him

Matsukawa Issei: ah, young love

Oikawa Tooru: YEAH maybe in a later chapter, we haven’t reached that plot point yet. BUT we talked about soooo much like he has a younger brother who’s in elementary school right now and apparently they look super alike KYAAAAAA I WANNA SEE PICTUUUREESS

Matsukawa Issei: he just said kya

Hanamaki Takahiro: i know, mattsun, i know

Oikawa Tooru: btw he has tennis practice tmr (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Hanamaki Takahiro: so he plays tennis

Matsukawa Issei: wild

Oikawa Tooru: i bet he'll look so hot. i’m gonna go watch and u guys have to come with me

Hanamaki Takahiro: do we have to

Matsukawa Issei: yeah i got better stuff to do, like bang my head on a table

Hanamaki Takahiro: that sounds like a grand time, allow me to join u

Matsukawa Issei: k <3

Oikawa Tooru: U HAVE TO COME WITH ME I CAN’T GO ALONE THAT’S SO LAME C’MON

Matsukawa Issei: i dunno man, stalking doesn't rly fit my image. although now that u mention it, ive been craving yakiniku lately

Hanamaki Takahiro: mmmm yeah, at that expensive place downtown

Oikawa Tooru: ...

Matsukawa Issei: too bad we don’t have jobs and we’re poor and can’t afford it :(

Hanamaki Takahiro: yeah so poor we don’t even know what bills over 1000 yen look like

Matsukawa Issei: there are bills larger than 1000 yen, makki??

Hanamaki Takahiro: i dunno mattsun, i’ve just heard rumours

Oikawa Tooru: ...

Matsukawa Issei: oh, if only one of us had a part time job

Hanamaki Takahiro: i know right

Matsukawa Issei: :’(

Hanamaki Takahiro: :’(

Oikawa Tooru: FINE I GET IT I’LL TREAT U TO YAKINIKU IF U GO OGLE IWA-CHAN WITH ME

Matsukawa Issei: deal

Hanamaki Takahiro: im taking a screenshot of this

Matsukawa Issei: good thinking, makki

Hanamaki Takahiro: i know, babe

* * *

“Oikawa-kun, where are you heading?” Girl A giggled.

“Is it okay if we come with?” Girl B giggled in an identical way.

“Isn’t it cruel to not even give them proper names?” Hanamaki said.

“Sorry, princesses, but it’s a secret.” Oikawa winked and they swooned accordingly. To Hanamaki and Matsukawa, he hissed, “hurry up, let’s go before the girls follow us,” throwing on his shoulder bag and shoving his textbooks into his desk. “I don’t want them coming along and seeing how cool Iwa-chan is and falling in love with him.”

“Iwaizumi won’t be stolen by a girl,” Matsukawa said matter-of-factly as Hanamaki made gagging noises in the background. “He’s gay, remember?”

Oikawa snagged him by the lapels of his white blazer. “But what if she’s so cute that he makes an exception for her, huh?! What if she’s nice and smells good and makes adorable little bento and her laughs sound like tinkling bells, Mattsun! I can’t win against that!”

“Um, no, I’m pretty sure that’s not how homosexuality works.”

“WHATEVER, LET’S JUST GO!” Oikawa raced towards the shoe lockers, valiantly dragging the two with him, outside through the courtyard and past the track and field oval before finally reaching the tennis courts. Practice looked like it was just starting, the players stretching as they chatted. Oikawa plopped down on the grass, pressing his face close to the chain link fence, so excited he was afraid he'd float away.

Hanamaki heaved a great sigh and sprawled down beside him. “Are you seriously gonna just sit here for the rest of the afternoon watching them? Sounds like a waste of time to me.”

“How could watching Iwa-chan ever be a waste of time!” Oikawa gasped.

“That yakiniku better be worth it,” Matsukawa muttered, pulling out his earbuds and a textbook.

“Wooooow, Mattsun, you keener. Studying outside on such a nice da—wait, are those Kiyoko-san’s notes? How the hell did you get your hands on those?! Share them with me, shit, I’m gonna fail calc...”

Oikawa tuned them out, eyes trained on Iwaizumi who looked super handsome in the tennis shorts and windbreaker of their bright school colours, a stark contrast to his dark hair and eyes. He was idly bouncing a tennis ball against the ground with his racket, the ease of the movement drawing out a strange wistfulness in Oikawa. The bouncing continued even as a boy with ashen hair and a pretty mole on his cheek called out and jogged up to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi didn’t exactly smile, but the smirk that softened his face as they began chatting made Oikawa’s stomach drop. He had a flashback of Iwaizumi saying that Oikawa wasn’t his type.

Maybe Refreshing-kun over there was more to Iwaizumi’s tastes.

The stray thought made Oikawa’s guts churn. Actually, what if Iwaizumi wasn’t single? Oikawa hadn’t even thought to ask, because that never happened in shoujo manga. What if Iwaizumi was already dating his own protagonist, happy in their little rose-coloured world?

Oikawa gnawed on his lip and began ruthlessly plucking at the grass around him, flinging it in Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s general direction, wondering if maybe coming here hadn't been the best idea after all. He was deep into Angst Mode, halfway through convincing himself to just roll away while he still had the chance, when approaching footsteps made him look up.

“Iwa-chan!” he exclaimed, grinning before remembering that he was supposed to be depressed.

“I can’t believe you really came,” Iwaizumi said, staring down at him incredulously. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Ah, well.” Oikawa went back to his grass desecration. “Just thought I’d enjoy the sunshine, or something like that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re actually gonna stay and watch.”

Oikawa glanced back at his friends who had given up studying and were yelling and savagely jabbing at Matsukawa’s phone. Candy Crush always brought out the worst in them. He shrugged. “I dunno, I mean, it’s not like I have plans or anything.”

Iwaizumi tsk’d. “Whatever floats your boat.” He began to head back towards the court, where the coach had blown his whistle and was waving for the club members to gather.

“Wait, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi stopped and turned, scowling. “What?”

“What time do you guys finish?”

“Five-thirty.”

“I’ll be here.” Oikawa stuck his pinky through the fence, wiggling it around. “It’s a promise!” Iwaizumi glared at his beckoning finger for a moment before walking away without a backward glance. Oikawa frowned, his pinky drooping.

“Aww, it’s okay, Oikawa,” Hanamaki said, suddenly throwing an arm over Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Love takes time, Tooru-chan,” Matsukawa chuckled, mirroring Hanamaki from the other side.

Oikawa harrumphed and went back to gazing longingly at Iwaizumi. And glowering at Refreshing-kun.

*

Hanamaki and Matsukawa left a little before five because they actually had homework to attend to, unlike Oikawa, who was a shoujo protagonist and therefore didn’t have to worry about grades or his future or family relationships or anything unimportant like that.

The sky was gradually darkening, and it was getting chilly too. He sort of felt like a loser sitting there all by himself, but getting the chance to salivate over Iwaizumi’s awesomeness more than made up for it. His future boyfriend had the most amazing guns in the history of guns, totally worth all the electrolytes Oikawa had sweated out from his staring.

He perked up when the coach finally blew the whistle, eagerly watching the tennis players finish up their final stretches and begin gathering their belongings. As they started to trickle out from the open gate, Oikawa leaped up, brushed off the seat of his pants, and made his way over to the entrance. He tried not to trip Refreshing-kun when he walked by with a different dark-haired boy, only because he was afraid Iwaizumi would see and hate him forever. He was so busy glaring that he didn’t notice His Precious stop beside him.

“Oi.”

“Ah!” Oikawa whirled around and was graced with the sight of a light sheen of sweat on Iwaizumi’s rosy skin. Yum-yum. “Good work, Iwa-chan! Would you like some Pocari? I bought some from the vending machine just now, so it should still be cold!”

“Oh.” The enduring crease between Iwaizumi’s brows disappeared, and he took the bottle. “Thanks, I guess. You didn’t have to.”

“No, no! I wanted to.” Oikawa grinned. He watched with wide eyes as Iwaizumi twisted the cap off in one fluid motion and tipped it back, Adam’s apple bobbing. He had to force himself to look away, sucking on the inside of his cheek, wondering if the whole nosebleed thing might actually happen to him, ‘cause honestly, he’d always wanted to experience it.

“So. You going home now or what?” Iwaizumi asked, wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand.

“Hmm, I’m probably gonna stop by somewhere and grab a quick bite first. I’m starving, and my parents won’t be home for dinner anyway.”

Iwaizumi eyed him like he was trying to figure something out, and Oikawa stared back, two parts in confusion, eight parts in rapture. Iwaizumi cocked his head. “You like ramen?”

Oikawa blinked until the implications of the question hit him. His mouth fell open. “I-I _love_ ramen. Ramen’s one of my favourite foods in the world, I wish I could eat it more often, it’s just _soooo_ goo—”

“I know a place by the Sendai train station. Wanna go?”

“YES,” Oikawa shouted. A bird in a nearby tree flapped away, screeching in alarm. Iwaizumi’s cheek twitched. “I mean, yes,” Oikawa coughed. “I would love to. Please allow me to treat you in return for this most generous invitation, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi shot him a look of disgust. “What the hell? No thanks, I can pay for myself.”

“But I work part-time,” Oikawa insisted, because he really just wanted to treat Iwaizumi so he could call the whole thing a date.

“So do I.”

“Oh.” Oikawa deflated. “Right.”

“What.”

“No, it’s nothing! It’s, uh, just that no one else I know works, so everyone tries to take advantage of me when we go out to eat.”

Iwaizumi snorted. “I’m pretty sure that’s just ‘cause you’re an annoying idiot, not ‘cause you’re working.”

“That’s mean,” Oikawa whined.

“Shut up. Now c’mon, let’s get going before it gets too chilly.” Oikawa glanced down from Iwaizumi's still pinkish face to his bare legs and pursed his lips.

“Do you want my coat, Iwa-chan? You might catch a cold wandering around after sweating like that.”

“No. I’m used to it.”

“Are you sure? I promise my coat is clean!”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker. "I'm fine."

“Well, if you insist. Don’t come crying to me if you get sick later, okay?”

“Who the hell would do that, you piece of rotting trash.”

“Wow, Iwa-chan, your insults are evolving. Could this be a sign of your budding love for me?”

“I swear to God, if you don’t shut up right now, I’m gonna sock you in the balls.”

“Ooooh, that’s kink—OW, OH MY _GOD_ —I’M SORRY, I WAS JUST KIDDING, I TAKE IT ALL BACK! PLEASE, HAVE MERCY!”

*

Oikawa blew absently at his cup of steaming green tea as he peered at the menu, trying to look serious when he was really only looking at the pretty pictures. Across from him, Iwaizumi had already closed his up and was sipping his own tea.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa chirped.

“What?”

“What’re you getting?”

“Shoyu.”

Oikawa wrinkled his nose. “Boring! They have so many other choices! Like this negi one, I kinda wanna try it.”

“Get it then.” Iwaizumi crossed his arms. “I’m sticking with my shoyu.”

“But I dunno, the curry looks good, too...”

Iwaizumi ignored him and started playing with his phone.

“Iwa-chaaaannn,” Oikawa whined. “Help me choose.”

“Choose your own shitty ramen.”

“Fine, what would you recommend then? Out of curry and negi.” Oikawa leaned over the table, poking Iwaizumi’s hand. “I’ve narrowed it down to these two, so help me choose one.”

Iwaizumi didn’t even glance up. “I’ve only ever had the shoyu, so I don’t know.”

Oikawa puffed out his cheeks, frustrated and also hoping the expression was cute enough to move Iwaizumi, but as expected of the man who’d been utterly unaffected by his max-power puppy eyes, Iwaizumi slurped purposefully at his tea, leveling deliberate dead-fish eyes on Oikawa.

Five minutes of even more whining later, Iwaizumi waved the waitress over despite Oikawa’s protests.

“One negi and one curry,” Iwaizumi said, snatching Oikawa’s menu out of his hands and offering it along with his. “And an extra bowl, please.”

“Coming right up,” the waitress said in between nervous glances over at Oikawa, whose jaw had dropped with an alarming click.

Once she was gone, Oikawa looked down shyly at his lap, the corners of his lips pulling up against his control. He drew tiny little hearts on his thigh.

“Thank you, Iwa-chan. I love you.”

“Whatever,” Iwaizumi said. His phone lay on the table, screen fading into blackness as they sat there in silence. Oikawa chuckled to himself.

“What are you laughing about now, you creep?” Iwaizumi mumbled.

“Nothing, I’m just reveling in our relationship development!”

“Can you fucking not put it like that? It sounds so gross.”

“Iwa-chan, the sooner you admit that you love me, the quicker we can get to the finale: THE KISS SCENE.”

“Huh? Relationships don’t end at first kiss. What do you think this is, Disney? _Staying_ in a relationship is the hard part, dumbass.”

“How hard can it be if it’s never in manga, though! Besides, I have confidence in us, Iwa-chan. I bet we were BFFs in an alternate universe, because I feel like I’ve known you forever and ever.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes, lips a tight line. “Tell me that wasn’t a pick-up line.”

“How dare you, Iwa-chan! I have much higher standards in pick-up lines. That was me pouring my heart out to you, why d’you have to shove my pure feelings back into my face, meanie!”

“Really, now. Why do you have to curse the mes in other universes, then?”

“WOOOW, IWA-CHAN! THAT WAS HORRIBLE. THAT WAS REALLY, REALLY HORRIBLE.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

* * *

_Conversation: Oikawa-san + friend characters_

Oikawa Tooru: i love him (#ﾟﾛﾟ#)　

Oikawa Tooru: ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

Oikawa Tooru: \\(//∇//)/

Hanamaki Takahiro: go the fuck to sleep its 4 we have school tmr

Oikawa Tooru: ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry but not really; it's a very complicated feeling.
> 
> lemme know what you think <33


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